Republicans put on quite the freak show
Here’s the truth about the American political convention: It’s a forum for partisans to salute their party; an opportunity to introduce rising stars and showcase established ones; and an occasion to rally the troops, celebrate the nominees and persuade the undecided.
Conventions, Republican or Democratic, are four-day commercials, staged and scripted, with no danger of spontaneity. A convention is slanted, artfully contrived to show the party in the most flattering light. This is a made-for-television spectacle, with no claim of objectivity whatsoever.
Up to now, we have come to expect some reflection of reality. This is no longer so. Having started their journey through the looking glass in 2016, having travelled well past the wardrobe, we can confidently report that the Republicans have safely arrived in another universe.
The Grand Old Party is now living in Wonderland. Or sheltering in a gated community somewhere in Narnia. And if they don’t win, heaven forbid, they tell us America will become George Orwell’s 1984 or Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World.
Wherever they are, this version of truth is not the United States of America, or anything resembling it. As one speaker declared at the Democratic convention, there are now two Americas: “The America Donald Trump lives in and the America my father died in.”
This week’s Republican National Convention has been an assemblage of lies so dense, a theatre so absurd, that it is no longer a convention at all. It is the world of Kellyanne Conway’s “alternative facts.” We have ours, you have yours.
In this revisionist history, Donald Trump is the emperor of empathy. He makes a sympathy call to friends of the jacketless Congressman Jim Jordan, as if this were rare for a president. He is a feminist, who pardons a leading suffragette and champions women in his circle, not the misogynist who has called them “dogs” and “pigs” and is accused repeatedly of sexual assault.
He is a saviour of lobster fishermen, dairy farmers, coal miners, automakers — any industry, really.
He is the finest of fathers. Just ask the kids — Donald Jr., Eric, Tiffany, Ivanka — beneficiaries of nepotism, terrified of what awaits if dad loses.
He is a man of faith, despite his marital infidelity. He is magnanimous because he donates his salary to charity.
The president has ended America’s wars, crushed ISIS, brought peace to the Middle East, managed the strongest economy in the country’s history, delivered its broadest tax cut, created the most jobs!
The president? He’s conqueror of the coronavirus
— as long as no one mentions those 180,000 deaths. He’s made the ventilators and shut down travel from China. Blame the rest on the governors and mayors. Of course.
But if you think things are swell now, wait until the Democrats win. Let’s count the ways to collapse, in the words of Republicans.
The Democrats are “Marxists,” “leftists” and “socialists.” They will empty the jails, take away guns and “abolish the suburbs.” They will ban “animal agriculture” and “eliminate gas-powered cars” — honest — says Iowa Sen. Joni Ernst.
Chaos, carnage, cancel culture. The triumph of coastal elites. This is the future under Joe Biden, puppet of the dark Satanic forces, inspired by Jews. Of course.
Then there are the greatest hits from the Catalogue of Canards: the planeload of illicit cash sent to Iran; Hunter Biden and Ukraine; Obama spying on Trump’s campaign. Beijing Biden.
The Oscar for best performance goes to Kimberly Guilfoyle, whose performance evoked Eva Perón and Cruella de Vil. In her peroration, she started to yell, as if auditioning for high school cheerleader. Then she began to wave her arms, smiling in post-coital bliss. Call her speech “I have a Scream.”
Danger: Democrats ahead! Did you know Biden is “a Catholic in name only”? Or that he is “a Trojan Horse for the radical left”? That from Mike Pence, who wouldn’t know a Trojan Horse from a racehorse.
It was a hell of a freak show. Cassandra after Cassandra stood at a big podium, before a backdrop of American flags, feeding the festival of fear.
The Dystopia Show, with nothing but commercial breaks, runs until Nov. 3. Andrew Cohen is a journalist, professor and author of Two Days in June: John F. Kennedy and the 48 Hours That Made History.